Page 75 of The Mountain
“It was an accident, of course. But a stupid one,” Grandpa clarifies, because he’s nothing if not precise.
I lift my eyebrows and make a mental note to ply my aunt with wine at the next family gathering so I can get this story out of her.
“Look.” Grandpa gives a weary sigh, as if just recalling my father’s youth has exhausted him. “I don’t know much about snowboarding, or instructing, or what you need to progress in this field. I certainly don’t have any connections to push on your behalf.” He gives a little amused huff before growing serious again. “But if you need help paying for some course or exam so you can get this certification, you know I can help you with that, right?”
I blink dazedly, the Christmas lights blurring as I search for some response to Grandpa’s proclamation. As if my asking him for help is the most natural thing in the world. As if my decisionto be a snowboard instructor is a valid career choice, not some dead-end, or a waste of time and talent.
“You… you mean it?”
Grandpa makes an irritated sound that has me smiling despite myself. “Of course. You’re my granddaughter.”
My throat bobs. “Thank?—”
“Shoot. Is that the time?” There’s a shuffling of papers, the creaking of a chair followed by a self-deprecating chuckle. “I didn’t realize it was so late.” He lets out an overly dramatic yawn. “I better get to bed. You have a very happy Christmas, dear.”
And then he hangs up.
I blink in surprise, settling my phone on my bare knees and smiling faintly at the screen. At the familiarity of Grandpa’s abrupt goodbye. He never did like being thanked.
“Lily?”
I start at the sound of Seth’s voice, my phone tumbling to the floor with a thud.
“What are you doing up so early?” Seth whispers.
His brow dips as his gaze takes in my naked form, the phone on the floor, the dark living room lit only by flickering Christmas lights. “Here. You must be freezing.” He strips off his T-shirt, bending to pull it over my head, then kneeling to swipe my phone from beside my feet. “Is everything okay?” He grips my knees, staring up at me with concern etched on his features. “Did something happen?”
His grip tightens, eyes narrowing as his gaze tracks over to my closed door, barely visible through the shadowed hallway. Towhere Matty, Liam, Antoine, and Eddie are still sleeping. The usual soft smile is gone, replaced by a hard jaw and sharp-eyed gaze, reminding me of how he looked that morning I woke up, dazed and still half-drugged. When his knuckles had been raw and cut, shoulders tense, like some fighter ready for their next round.
My chest squeezes, even as a frisson of apprehension courses through me.
“No. No, everything’s fine,” I assure him hurriedly, scrambling to slot my arms through the sleeves of his shirt, then shuffling to pull it down my thighs. It’s still warm from his body and smells like him—sweet and clean with the faintest hint of musk. I take his face in my hands, feeling the stubble rasp against my palms as I bring his gaze back to me and offer him a tremulous smile. “I was just talking to my grandpa. He… uh… called to wish me Merry Christmas.”
It's a complete oversimplification, but I wouldn’t even know where to start to explain the rest of it. I’m still trying to make sense of it all, of the maelstrom of emotions tangling through my thoughts. Homesickness dancing with effervescent hope, and a sense of vindication that has me feeling almost guilty.
Seth’s expression softens, and he presses a kiss to my forehead as he rises from his knees, then makes the cushions dip when he settles beside me on the couch. “Merry Christmas, honey.”
He pulls me to him, until I’m tucked close against his side, then rubs his chin against the top of my head in an almost catlike gesture. “I hope all your Christmas wishes come true.” The words whisper in my hair, warm and fluttering.
I close my eyes and smile against his bare shoulder.I think they already have, I want to say, but I don’t think I would ever have thought to wish for this. To be falling in love with five wonderful guys. To feel safe and loved and cherished.
And now, thanks to Grandpa, I have a chance at making this last for more than a season. Maybe, even, if I dare to hope, to have a chance at forever.
I don’t know how to say any of that. Not yet. Not when everything is so fresh. Not when the sun hasn’t even risen.
So I press a gentle kiss to Seth’s shoulder, and whisper: “Merry Christmas.”
Chapter 27
Matty
“Quiet. You’ll wake Matty.”
Liam’s hissed warning pierces the haze of sleep like a knife. My eyes fly open, awareness rushing through me with a familiar spike of adrenaline. I blink at the ceiling, noting the fine cracks in the paint, the dusty lightbulb overhead, feeling the thick mattress beneath me, softer than my own.
Lily’s bed.
I take a deep breath, letting reality settle over me like a blanket, heavy and calming. I’m safe. Here. This is real.
